


That Time of Year

by JustAWritingAmateur



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-03
Updated: 2016-01-03
Packaged: 2018-05-11 13:12:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5627842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustAWritingAmateur/pseuds/JustAWritingAmateur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seto Kaiba is working on Christmas eve... but Seto doesn't care about Christmas. Does he?  Might be a two-shot with a New Year's Eve follow-up, if people would like one... Trustshipping, Seto x Ishizu. FLUFF CENTRAL.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Time of Year

He’d been typing for so long that the pads of his fingers had begun to go numb, mouth gently falling open wider and wider over the hours, gaping, fishlike, without his noticing; his eyes gradually glazing over, the bright green-white desktop screen casting his already pale face in a watery, sickly glow in the darkness of his office.

Seto Kaiba was certainly not one to celebrate Christmas--at least, certainly not one to take a break during the holiday. 

In fact, if it weren’t for Mokuba, he probably wouldn’t have even remembered it was Christmas in the first place. The sudden recasting of the Manor’s interior as some overdone winter wonderland-type house, with glass snowflakes hanging from the ceiling of the main hallway, the banisters and moldings of each stairway and room crowned with fresh greenery and crimson velvet ribbon, a massive shiny tree in the main sitting room--all very sentimental, very silly and childish, and all very Mokuba--

The offices at KaibaCorp had been empty for a good while now, as Mokuba had taken the liberty--the nerve of him, really, Seto thought dismissively, a crease nestling in his brow at the memory--of giving his staff the entire Christmas week off work, giving him somesuch nonsense about them wanting to spend time with family and buying presents and taking a vacation--the latter sentiment of which Seto Kaiba hardly understood. Certainly the second reason was valid; after all, KaibaCorp always made a killing during the holiday season, what with the new editions of Duel Disks hitting the market precisely at the right time each year… 

Spend time with family, though--

Seto rolled his neck gently, lifting his fingers from the keyboard and allowing himself to blink a few times, a sharp intake of breath at the dull pain from his tiny motions hissing like steam throughout the empty room.

I’m sure Mokuba is waiting for me downstairs--

\--I might as well join him--

Something like warmth prickling at his skin soon turned into rather unpleasant goosebumps of surprise at the sound of his desk telephone ringing, the furrow in his brow digging in like the beginnings of a headache.

Seto scowled to himself as he stretched out his back, feeling long-stilled joints cracking and settling anew, and reached for the phone. “Kaiba--”

The voice careening and swooping through the phone, racing through timbres and octaves in a characteristically flamboyant way, confirmed the throbbing in Seto’s head. 

“Well, hello, Kaiba-boy, and a merry Christmas to you! And, of course, to darling little Mokuba, though now he must nearly be an adolescent now, ha, ha, ha--”

Pegasus. 

Seto gritted his teeth and resisted the urge to throw the phone back down onto the receiver--a childish, albeit satisfying-seeming option. “The hell do you want, Pegasus?”

Through the line, the sound of overdramatic tsk-ing echoing annoyingly. “My, my, my, Kaiba-boy, why the rush to get rid of me? Surely you, of all people, are not exactly busy with holiday festivities--not if I know you, Kaiba-boy…”

“Pegasus, believe me, hearing from you would kill any holiday cheer I might have ever managed to muster,” snapped Seto in response, resting his elbows on the desk and raking his fingers through his bangs impatiently, willing his headache to go away even as it spread to the base of his skull.

A pause. A buried pout ringing in the stale air. “How rude of you, you Grinch!” A delicate sip of something from a crystal glass. “Anyway, Kaiba-boy, I merely called to wish you good tidings and holiday greetings and all of that Christmas goodwill, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera! I mean, I know you aren’t much for Christmas, but I happened to think of you while I was enjoying my gingerbread cookies--after all, since Christmas is when you spend time with those you love and care for--”

“A card would have sufficed.” Or not even contacting me in the first place--

Pegasus’s giggle, high-pitched and sickly sweet as a lie, rang throughout the room. “Ah, but what’s the fun in that, Kaiba-boy? After all, I do believe us to be more than mere business partners, but good friends--”

At this, Seto bit his lip to keep from laughing sardonically. “If that’s how you see our relationship, Pegasus, you are even more deluded than I gave you credit for.”

A faux-haughty sigh. Another sip. “Ah, Kaiba-boy, someday you’ll come to your senses and realize that--well--Christmas is, to put it in a rather gauche way, a time to let people know you care. Now, I know the great Seto Kaiba doesn’t care about anyone except for little Mokuba, but I merely thought I would extend a little greeting and express my affection for you and my enjoyment of your company…”

My company--or my capital-C-company, more like--

Seto fought the urge to roll his eyes. Or stab himself with a letter opener. “Please tell me I’m not the only person you’re calling tonight with this nonsense.”

Another chuckle, velvet. “Oh dear me, not in the least! I must call all of your little friends as well--Yugi-boy and that whole little delightful coterie of young people--not to mention, of course, my dear friends back in Egypt--surely you remember the Ishtars…?”

Seto suddenly swallowed hard, something like a lump rounding out in his throat. He coughed in a faint attempt to clear it, hoping to seem merely and utterly nonchalant about them. Those people. That person-- 

“How could I forget those deluded idiots with their damned Pharaoh mumbo-jumbo?”

He’d spoken too harshly by half--overreacted--he realized, stomach sinking, as Pegasus paused for a few too many moments for Seto’s liking. Thinking. Judging. That undoubtedly intelligent mind of his whirling about, analyzing the way Seto had responded to the mention of--

\--he can’t have--

“I see.” Pegasus’s voice was uncomfortably pregnant with meaning as Seto took a deep, shuddering breath as quietly as his coiled body would allow.

Another sip through the line to break another long silence. “Well, my dear Kaiba-boy, it was delightful to speak with you--I do hope to see you again--perhaps at the next Duel Academy Tournament?”

Seto snorted a bit too loudly, too forcedly, as he hung up the phone, palms gasping in a faint wave of sweat. “Don’t count on it.”

The skin on the back of his neck prickled incessantly as he sat in the silence of his office, a sinking feeling ingratiating itself in his stomach, heart pounding in his ears as he tried not to think about it. Any of it.

What that idiotic Pegasus had said--

“Ah, Kaiba-boy, someday you’ll come to your senses and realize that--well--Christmas is, to put it in a rather gauche way, a time to let people know you care.”

What a horrid, sentimental concept. To use this moneyed, greedy excuse for a holiday as a time to express feelings like that--

\--as if he were admitting to having them--?

\--like that?

\--for her?

Had he always been so transparent?

I can’t believe I’m doing this--

Like that of a man possessed, Seto’s hand hovered over the buttons on the telephone pad, fingers twitching, spine shuddering, the fist wrapped around at the receiver gripping the plastic almost to the point of pain. 

The digits--

Those he knew by heart, even if he had never actually worked up the nerve to dial them-- 

It had seemed so damned simple every time--to put the phone to his ear, wait for the dial tone to melt into that incessant ringing before someone picked it up--

\--that familiar, calm voice--

\--the possibility of a trace of pleasant, demure surprise coloring that voice--

\--every time, he’d stopped himself, shaking his head in frustration at the stupidity of it all.

\--What would he even say? What kind of pretense--

He scoffed at himself, trying to ease some elastic back into his bones, life back into his shell-shocked frozen body, still glued to the chair like it would save him--

It’s not a big deal. It’s not--after all, it’s surely no stranger than Pegasus calling me tonight--

His face was uncomfortably warm--damned home heating system must be screwed up again--as he flexed his fingers one last time before dialing the number, feeling bile rise into his throat, stomach churning delicately as he cradled the receiver under his chin.

Prring. Prrring. Prrrring.

\--goddamned international calling--

“Cairo Museum of Antiquities, this is Ishizu Ishtar--”

\--he nearly dropped the phone onto his desk at the sound of her voice, trying to grab hold of it once more with sweat-slicked hands as he unconsciously uncrossed and recrossed his legs rapidly, hitting his knee on the underside of his desk--fuck, ow--

“Hello?”

When he finally got the phone back to his ear, his bangs were sticking to his forehead, voice coming out in hyperventilating gasps and sputters. “Ishizu--” 

I’m such a fucking idiot--

Her voice was soft at first. Calm. Curious, even. Everything he’d imagined and yet more. Rounded. Bitten through with intelligence, crackling like embers in a warm fireplace-- 

“Could this be Seto Kaiba?” 

The way she pronounced his name--both of his names--warmth ringing out in every syllable--

Seto took a deep breath, covering the mouthpiece with his free hand, hoping to some sort of deity that she couldn’t hear how witless he sounded--

“Ah. Yes--it’s me--it’s Seto Kaiba--” 

It sounded like she was smiling--dear God--on her side as she responded. “Ah, Seto Kaiba. I haven’t heard from you in--could it have been nearly two years since you were last in Egypt?”

Seto shifted in his seat, lifting the fabric of his suddenly too-warm turtleneck shirt away from his skin to allow some desperately-needed air to circulate. “I--I think so. Yes. Two years--that sounds about right--”

I’m such a fucking idiot--really, this is the level of conversation I am able to engage in with this ridiculous woman--?

Ishizu’s voice was perfectly even as it issued from the receiver, a slash of tartness in the syllables. “It’s rather too bad we didn’t stay in touch. I received a lovely postcard from Yugi and his friends earlier this month--”

Seto bit back a snarl reactively, adjusting the phone under his chin and pushing his bangs around on his forehead. “If you think I have anything to do with those twerps--”

Resignation on her end. A quiet, almost imperceptible pressing together of soft lips. Seto considered banging his head against the wall at his ill-timed outburst. I’m such a damned child-- 

“I didn’t suggest you did, Seto Kaiba. Just that--well, I believed you and I had reached some sort of understanding after our duel. And when the Pharaoh made the journey to his final resting place--I did anticipate that you might have some questions.”

She expected to hear from me--?

Through a haze of sheer humiliation fogging his brain, Seto managed to blink a few times, grasping at strings of intuition one by one.

She sounds--

\--disappointed? That I never--

He tried to laugh lightly, to restore some semblance of a tone he could handle in this conversation, an uneasy chuckle sliding from between his lips too quickly. “Ah--well. You know me--I was never taken in by that nonsense--”

Please, someone shut my damned mouth, because clearly I have no control over this--

A thick, humming pause on her end, followed by a quiet, complacent sigh. Like he had failed some sort of test on her part. “I know.”

Seto swallowed hard, that lump in his throat rising, reducing his voice to something approximating a squeak. “Anyway…” 

\--God, I sound like a teenage girl--

Voice measured but laced through with query. “Is there a reason you’re calling me now, Seto?”

Fuck. Dammit--

“Surely you aren’t calling to wish me a merry Christmas?” Ishizu’s voice sounded utterly surprised--even downright confused--at the possibility. “After all, you know I don’t celebrate Christmas, and knowing you, you surely aren’t going to be revelling in the holiday season…?”

Her voice trailed off deliberately, leaving room for something to be filled in. Something neat and tidy where the words--the sentiments--were anything but.

\--a denial?

\--a confirmation?

Seto cleared his throat fruitlessly, mentally ordering his vocal cords to submit to his will. Then he did it again. Still nothing.

His voice still wobbled out of his control as he eventually managed to reply, licking his lips anxiously almost to the point of discomfort. “Ah--well. I just got a call from--from Pegasus, of all people--and he--he said--well--that Christmas was the time of year when--well--” His voice trailed off in an off-key whisper, mouth going dry as he fathomed trying to express anything in a way that would be less than completely humiliating--

Then--

\--on the other side--

\--it sounded like Ishizu was holding her breath--

\--could she be--?

“Pegasus--that fop--said, well--that… Christmas--is supposed to be--um--when you tell people you care. So. Um. That’s why I called.”

A dangerously uncomfortable pause as Seto seriously considered going into hiding. The flush steaming on his neck and cheeks surely was a sign of illness--surely it couldn’t be healthy to blush this damned much--

A quiet but deep breath sounded through the receiver. In and out. Full-bodied. Mediative. 

\--as if Ishizu were struggling to think of what to say--?

Seto sniffed a bit more loudly than he intended, eyes prickling wetly. Hotly. Unpleasantly. 

Well. That was that. Time to hang up and prevent further humiliation--

“Seto.”

Seto nearly bit his own tongue trying to spit out a cogent response. “Y-yes?” 

Oh god, oh god, oh god--

Ishizu’s voice was once again warm, even a little--Seto gulped as the thought struck him like a cold slap--shy?--as she responded. 

“Thank you, Seto. Thank you for calling me tonight. I--well, I--”

It was Seto’s turn to pause as the woman on the other end seemingly struggled to find the correct words, her usually-silvered tongue untangling itself from the knots of things left unsaid, of logic considered and discarded.

“I really appreciate it--and--well--” 

He heard her pause again thoughtfully, his chest rattlingly hollow and empty as his heart fluttered to a stop, the endless time it was taking for her to formulate the right words edging him into madness.

“I--I hope you decide to call again soon.”

At that, the phone finally slipped through Seto’s clammy fingers, the plastic clacking against the wood of the desk with an unpleasant sound. The call dropped. Seto’s face impossibly crimson and heated, mouth strangely dry, eyes wet once more, every flicker of reflected light in the dark office suddenly too bright, too bright--

Hyperventilating, he picked up the phone once more, wincing at his apparent clumsiness.

“I-Ishizu?” His voice was too ragged, too unruly for his liking, but he had to--had to--

“I’m still here, Seto Kaiba.” Something like buried amusement coloring her low voice.

Seto closed his eyes as a bead of sweat threatened to drip perilously from his eyelashes, taking in a shuddering breath and praying she couldn’t hear his--his desperation--

“I--I will.” If I can fucking work up the damned nerve--

\--if I’d known--

She sounded as if she were grinning when she responded. “I would like that very much.”

Seto hung up the phone and released a tiny groan from deep within his chest, sounding for all the world like a damned child.

What--

\--what do I even--

A knock at the door. “Seto?”

Seto cleared his throat, eyes widening briefly as he attempted to wipe his forehead dry, his hands dry, restore some semblance of normalcy to himself--

“Ah. Mokuba--I’ll be right down. Do you have the movie picked out?” His voice more breathless than he’d have ever wanted--hopefully he doesn’t notice--

His brother’s incessant, clear laugh, muffled only slightly by the thick oak of the door. “I think you mean movies, Seto…”

Good god. “Go get them queued up; I’ll be down once I send one final email.”

“Promise?” False petulance disguising a real question.

“I promise.” Seto tapped a few buttons on the keyboard to shut down the desktop computer, the pale screen melting into a deep blue, then to black.

“Merry Christmas!” 

“Merry Christmas.” 

Mokuba’s shoes squeaked, high-pitched and new, down the stairs, growing ever fainter, as Seto allowed himself to smile, the motion feeling unfamiliar but not entirely unpleasant. 

Merry Christmas, indeed.


End file.
